Only A Matter Of Time
by Jehilew
Summary: Looking back, Rogue could only wonder at how she hadn't seen it coming. Cute little Romy one-shot.


Looking back, Rogue could only wonder at how she hadn't seen it coming.

From the moment she'd first clapped eyes on him, walking the halls alongside Storm as she showed him the mansion, she'd felt a thrill, and when he'd glanced over and caught her staring, those eyes had stolen her breath clean out of her lungs as surely has his fingers had ever successfully picked a pocket.

"Ah, there is another member of our team. Come, you must meet her. Mind your manners, though, or she'll remind you why you should," she heard Storm saying, smiling widely at Rogue as they approached. "Rogue, this is Gambit, an old friend who _finally_ deigned to visit," she went on in a mildly chiding tone and a roll of her sky blue eyes toward the handsome, bright eyed man with her. "And Gambit, this is Rogue, one of our best, our mechanics and flight instructor, and a dear friend of mine."

"Afternoon, chere. Had I known Stormy was hidin' such a pretty femme under her roof, I'd have visited a whole lot sooner," he flirted, flashing her a rascal's grin.

"Oh, listen to you, with them lines, ain't you just a charmer?" She sassed him in all good humor, bless her pitter-pattering heart as she meant every word of it.

And from _that_ moment on, he'd been all over her like sweet on honey. Not that he'd been clingy or anything less than the devastating ladies' man that he was during his pursuit; he hadn't. He'd just been damned persistent, no matter how many times she'd snapped, yelled, pushed back, doubted, and blown him off to _warn_ him off.

Because of course she'd done all of those things. Tall, lean, and lithe, with a mop of auburn hair, a sharp, handsome face full of planes and angles, and a grin that dropped panties and broke hearts in equal turns, he'd not been at all her type- he wasn't _safe_. Not like stout, solid, and cantankerous Logan, and so laughably far from boyish, blond, blue eyed prankster that was Bobby. He smoked, he drank, he lied, he stole, he gambled, he flirted with every female of legal age and did far more than that with quite a few of them, and he charmed everyone around him every chance he got. He was the stereotypical 'bad boy', the kind women knew to leave alone, yet never wanted to. What in the world would a man like him even begin to want with her, a woman he couldn't touch?

No, he wasn't safe at all, he screamed heartbreak.

Despite all that, bit by bit, day by day, he'd become a friend first, eventually secured her trust, and wiggled his way through the cracks in her defenses.

"Dammit, Cajun! Will you just back off? I'd like to not have all the shit you've pulled running through my head forever and always, thanks." This, after he'd companionably slung his arm over her shoulders as they'd walked to the danger room.

"Chere, my coat's touchin' your uniform. Ain't nothin' gonna happen," he reassured her, his arm tightening around her.

"Yeah, last time I heard something like that, I was slidin' around on ice bridges and dropping the temperature of the mansion into the negatives."

"So? Your ex tried to hold y' hand once, and now you're tapped out for good?" When she attempted to jerk away, he shook his head. "Listen, people gotta touch, chere, and you ain't no different. Besides, if an oops happens, ain't no big deal; you can drain my energy anytime, chere, I got plenty of it. Now, get your little behind back over here."

Much to her consternation (and utter excitement, truth be told), then on out, he'd deliberately sought out her touch, catching her hand in his to kiss her knuckles, placing his hand in the small of her back as he'd walked her to her room, playfully tugging her ponytail or catching a white curl to tuck it behind her ear, sitting close enough to brush arms and thighs, or sweeping her up into a tight hug whenever he'd thought she needed it (which was, unsurprisingly, quite often).

"Remy, if you don't let go of me-"

"What? You looked like you needed a hug."

"Really? I _look_ like I need a hug? What does that even mean, how does one look like they need a hug?"

"Startin' to think you sound like maybe you need a kiss all over that sassy little mouth of yours, too."

" _Sure_ , you do," she muttered with a roll of her eyes to cover up the sting. Because no one ever did things like that, things like think about kissing _her_ , and despite all of his flirting and casual touch, even Remy hadn't crossed that boundary.

Remy caught the hurt feelings, and immediately answered with a hot, delicious, one-second-long smack on her lips. "Mmm-hm, I damn sure do, sweetheart."

Rogue brought her fingers to her lips, and stared at him, completely stunned. Finally, "try that again, swamp rat, and I'll knock your teeth in so hard, you'll be chokin' on 'em."

She tried to tell herself she meant it, but she could tell by the flare of his eyes and the smirk on his mouth that she hadn't fooled him, either.

Then on, it didn't take Rogue much time at all. That first kiss, and the look on her face after had been all Remy'd needed to steal a couple of more kisses, and then she'd screwed up her courage and stole few of her own, and then it'd only been a matter of time before she'd fallen head over heels for that blasted Cajun.


End file.
